


fox in the trap

by strangelysweet



Series: mutually assured destruction [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi Goro Thinks About Murder ™, Fantasizing, It's a little spicy, M/M, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, innapropriate use of closets, teenagers being horny idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:08:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25048948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangelysweet/pseuds/strangelysweet
Summary: Goro's anger flares like the electricity flowing down his spine in jagged rivulets, just at the sound of Akira's voice in his ear."Are you done?" He hisses, trying to keep him at arm's length."Done with what?" Akira says, his hand burning into Goro's shoulder. "What am I doing to you?""You know exactly what you're doing."He smiles like a shark. "Do I?"---He shouldn't be doing this. It's fucking with his efficiency. But, God, it just feels so good.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Series: mutually assured destruction [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836274
Comments: 4
Kudos: 129





	fox in the trap

He dreams of the streets outside of a casino, lights glimmering on the wet streets as rain pours from the night sky. Akira is there, soaked by the storm. They aren't wearing their masks. In fact, Goro isn't even wearing his Metaverse attire. But Akira is Joker, stark and elegant, a vision in black and grey. They're just staring at each other, Akira's gunmetal eyes searching for an answer Goro hasn't prepared beforehand. The rain pelts against his clothes, sticking to his skin like paint. A gloved hand touches his arm, and suddenly, he's pinned to a wall, Akira's enraged panting condensing in the cold air. 

He wears the rainwater like a necklace, the droplets streaking down into the ripped-open collar of his shirt. Goro notices the distinct lack of his trademark coat. He doesn't have time to process where it has gone because Akira's teeth are on his neck, and he can't fucking breathe. He rips off his scarf, his sharp canines dragging across his jugular vein. Not hard enough to hurt, too light to give Goro what he wants. 

Scarlet-gloved hands press into his chest, pawing at clothes deemed an inconvenience. Akira growls, reaching a hand behind him to pull Goro close, fingers digging into his back. 

He runs a hand through the inky black curls, rain-slicked and unruly, and Akira trails his lips up the side of his jaw, ghosting over the corner of Goro's mouth. They're about to meet, but light shatters the image.

Goro wakes up, face flushed, and breathing heavily. He buries his face in his pillow, trying to ignore the blatant truth. His hand lingers by his thigh for a moment, desperate for some kind of touch. He turns onto his back, furiously groaning into the silence of his apartment. 

He is not about to touch himself over some fool in a tailcoat. Goro should feel ashamed, but he doesn't. He just feels _good_. 

Akira spins his dagger in his hands, the blade flickering like a dying star as it catches the light. He has his legs crossed, one over the other, and the curve of his thigh is prominent. Goro looks away, biting his lip in a desperate attempt to distract himself from the lingering tension in the bottom of his stomach. 

Dressed as Joker, Akira holds confidence unlike Goro has ever seen him exhibit before. He resembles the models on the dirty magazines he pretends not to glance at as he passes their stands in Shinjuku. They have the same look on their face: the sly, teasing smirk. Akira's eyes slide over to him across the room, observing the way he bites his lip. Goro feels hot under his dark eyes, and he bites his finger to stifle the feeling. 

The white gloves feel too heavy, his collar feels too warm, and the red mask too hot on his skin to ignore. He risks exposing the redness of his face if he takes it off, but a small voice inside him _wants_ Akira to know how much Goro thinks of him, how much he dreams of his hands on his chest and on his hips. The little feeling inside of him wants Akira to see what he does to him. 

The rest of his group has left their leader in the Safe Room with his soon-to-be-murderer. Goro doesn't know why Akira lets them tag along; he's too good for them anyway. But it doesn't change the fact that Akira is looking at him underneath his eyelashes, still spinning his knife. He uncrosses his legs, then crosses them again, lifting his other leg over his knee. It takes Goro everything in him to repress the involuntary squirm, biting into his finger harder to suppress any noises trying to sneak up on him. 

Akira stabs his dagger into the table, then crosses his arms over his chest. Oh, God, he wants Goro to _talk_ to him. He can't handle that now. Without thinking where he'll go next, he flies out of the Safe Room, slamming the door behind him. 

Goro looks frantically for another room to hide in, then locks his sights on a small cupboard. He practically hurls himself into the closet, leaning against the wall. Pressing a hand to his mouth, he tries to calm his breathing. Goro takes his damn mask off, throwing it to the floor. His head connects the wall, his hand still covering his mouth, and he looks at the needle of light underneath the door. No one is standing in front of it, so he fumbles with his belt, panting into his hand. 

Footsteps sound outside the door, interrupting the dim glow beneath the closet door. Goro freezes, looking down at his hand, then at the door. A knock resounds, then a low muttering from the other side. 

"I'm not going to knock twice." Akira's voice growls from the other side. 

He quickly buckles his belt, running a hand through his hair. He's sweating, eyelids fluttering, and he's still gasping. The door opens, and Akira slips into the closet, discreetly closing the door behind him. He's too close. The air is hot, invaded with the scent of leather and coffee. 

"What's up with you?" He questions, leaning in to inspect Goro's face in the dark. 

"N-Nothing. I am perfectly fine." He replies, praying that it's too dim to see the scarlet flush on his cheeks. 

Akira scoffs. "Yeah, right. You're a horrible liar." 

If only he knew. 

"Come on, Akechi, I'm throwing you an olive branch here. Just tell me what's wrong." He sighs, placing an arm against the wall above Goro's head. 

He shudders, the cold wall pressing into his spine. His gloved hand creeping back up to his mouth, Goro swallows. 

"Nothing is wrong. Your 'olive branch' is not needed." He mutters, trying to ignore the rapidly increasing proximity between him and Akira's hips. 

Akira sighs, shaking his head. "You're hiding from me in a closet. I'm pretty sure something is wrong." 

His eyes flick up to meet Goro's, glinting like steel. He watches as Akira runs his tongue over his lips, fury rising up his chest.

"Do you enjoy this?" Goro hisses, wishing that he wasn't so tightly wound up. Akira shrugs.

"Enjoy what?" He asks, but Goro can see the glint in his stone-grey eyes as he drops his gaze to the gloved hand covering Goro's mouth.

His eyes are pleading, windows to his barely-contained inner turmoil. Akira cocks his head to the side, and Goro hates that it makes him feel hotter. 

Footsteps approach, the familiar swirl of the tendrils escaping a Shadow's façade swimming under the door. 

"I think I heard the intruders through here." One says, it's voice layered like overlapping audio from a broken telephone. 

Akira presses his body close to Goro's, shrinking behind where the door opens. He can feel Akira's heartbeat pressed against the palm of his hand, the only thing keeping them apart. 

"This? It's a broom closet, dumbass. Come on, let's check the maze." The other one says, and their footsteps recede, the tension dissipating as they leave. 

At least, it should be, but Akira's still caging him to the wall, his face practically buried in the crook of his neck. The heat of his breath causes Goro's fingers to shake, his skin to leap into flames, and his knees to weaken. How could he be so pathetic? Why was he so affected by this? He was going to put a bullet into his pretty skull in less than a week, but here he was, feeling like prey. He should be the hunter, not the fox in the trap. 

"You smell like sandalwood," Akira mutters, "It's nice." 

"Th-Thank you," Goro says, averting his eyes. 

Akira inhales again, and places a hand around Goro's shoulder, pulling him closer. "There's something else, too. I can't quite place my finger on it." 

He's toying with him, he has to be. There's no way in hell this is accidental. Every touch, every word, is deliberate, and carefully thought out. Goro tries to keep thinking, but it's rather difficult when someone he dreams of pressing him to a wall is doing the same damned thing in reality. 

He thanks whatever deity is out there for his high collar, grateful that there's something stopping him from completely losing it. Akira leans back a little bit, then turns, his face inches away from Goro's.

"It's myrrh." He whispers. 

Goro's anger flares like the electricity flowing down his spine in jagged rivulets, just at the sound of Akira's voice in his ear. 

"Are you done?" He hisses, trying to keep him at arm's length. 

"Done with what?" Akira says, his hand burning into Goro's shoulder. "What am I doing to you?" 

"You know _exactly_ what you're doing." 

He smiles like a shark. "Do I?" 

Goro growls in frustration, turning his face away. Akira leans in, turning his face to make eye contact. 

"Do you want me to stop?" He murmurs. 

Goro considers lying. Saying that he never wants to see Akira again and that he hates him. He could say that he doesn't see him that way, or that Akira is barking up the wrong tree. He's _so_ good at lying anyway, why not pull the wool further over those sharp eyes? Spin another lie to tidy away later when it was safe to lick his wounds. 

He could lie. But he doesn't. He doesn't say anything.

"I know you don't want me to stop," Akira's lips trace the line of Goro's cheekbone, barely touching him, "So what do you want me to do next?" 

Goro squirms then flinches as a finger hooks itself into his collar. Akira pulls the fabric down, pressing a kiss to his jugular vein. Blindly, Goro reaches forward, grabbing a fistful of Akira's coat. Drawing him closer, he presses his forehead to his shoulder, struggling to control his breathing. He can't look Akira in the eyes, not right now. Akira has other plans, however, as he tilts his chin up and kisses him. 

What is he doing? Goro is kissing the boy he needs to kill in about 72 hours. Hands slide into his hair, tugging gently. He finds himself being pressed against the wall, scarlet hands pulling at the golden threads across his shirt, teasing his collar open. 

Akira's hands trace the constellations of freckles and scars over his chest, hungry and wanting. Goro hooks his arm around the back of the dark-haired boy's neck, pulling him closer. 

But then he's gone, the door slightly ajar. Akira's footsteps recede into the humming corridors of the casino, fading into the mindless noise of the crowd. Goro is left breathless, hot, and alone in the closet, the strip of light bathing the wall across from him gold. His hands linger on where Akira left a mark, just above where his collar ends. Bastard. 

Goro buttons up his shirt, puts his mask on, and strides out into the masses. Akira's black coat swirls around the corner, a red hand sliding across the wall. Fine. If that's how he wants to do this, that's how they're going to do this. If Joker wants to dance, he'll give him the best dance of his life. He will wreck him. 

As Goro chases Akira through the backrooms, he keeps thinking of how Akira's face will fall when Goro points a gun at his forehead. They'll dance in all the beautiful places, just so when Akira goes there, all he'll be able to think of is Goro's lips on his, his hands in Akira's hair. But after the dance is done, Akira will be devastated from the damage. 

After the bullet leaves the chamber, he will finally know why storms are named after people. 

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a quote from caitlyn seihl. it just seemed to fit very well with their relationship lmao.
> 
> edit: sequel is out!!! dumb teens be horny in all the wrong places!!


End file.
